


Let him eat cake

by QueenUnderTheMountain (Rinchen)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo just likes cake so much, M/M, Marie Antoinette - ish AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:56:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinchen/pseuds/QueenUnderTheMountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin had seen how greed and power had addled and envenomed his grandfather and father and he had sworn to himself as he stood on their graves that he wouldn't end like that. So he devoted himself to his craft, the smithing.<br/>But he wasn't prepared for a Hobbit that entered his life due to a trade agreement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let him eat cake

Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, named Oakenshield for his deeds at the Battle of Azanulbizar was a humble dwarf. He served his kingdom and never indulged in any pleasantries besides his passion for forging.

He didn't like to be King. He had seen how greed and power had addled and envenomed his grandfather and father and he had sworn to himself as he stood on their graves that he wouldn't end like that. So he devoted himself to his craft, the smithing.

As the first Lord of his Council suggested that he should marry, Thorin denied that categorically, stating that he had Heirs in his sister sons Fili and Kili. He was even able to reject five more arrangements before he all but exploded after his advisors had presented him the portraits and merits of countless Dwarven Ladies that might be suitable for him. Thorin banged his fist on the hard wooden table and jumped out of his seat.

“Leave me alone with all of your Ladies. They don't mind to me. I don't care for them or any other women.”

After that, the Lords didn't dare to approach him on that matter for one long year in which Thorin enclosed himself even more in his craft. His swords were, although unadorned, very popular because they were forged carefully and with utmost skill. If possible, Thorin even increased his skill, refined it. Most of the time he wished that he was not born a King but a commoner who could merge in his craft and never think about anything else.

But the topic of marriage didn't die down as Thorin has hoped. As Balin, his cousin and first advisor, came visiting him in his forge, Thorin knew that something would happen he could not escape.

As it turned out, Balin and his staff had bargained a trade agreement with the fertile lands of the Shire, ensuring them food, crops and fruits that couldn't be provided from the farmers of Dale. To consolidate that alliance the Thain of the Shire, who held a similar position as Thorin, Balin explained, insisted that the King of Erebor would marry a Shireling, preferably one of his own kin. Thorin scowled and gritted his teeth at Balin.

“I have told multiple times that I don't marry a woman.”

“You won't.”

“I won't?”

“Yes. After elucidating your situation to the Thain he was more or less relieved, stating that the only unmarried member of his kin in the right age would have been one of his grandsons. He added that marrying the same gender wasn't frown upon in his lands and agreed to the alliance. When we had recorded the last details I even met this grandson. A very charming lad I have to say, Thorin. Even you will be able to like him.”

“What does that mean?” Thorin's head snapped up as he lifted his eyes from the metal he was looking at.

“I only say that this little Hobbit will be good for you and our Kingdom. He has a smile that is able to melt stone. Oh by the Maker, if I only was younger.”

“You are already married, Balin!”

Balin smirked, bowed and left Thorin to his thoughts.

* * *

A fortnight later a rider called upon the arrival of a small travel party lead by Dwalin, another of the King's cousins. As Thorin was informed that this party would bring him his future spouse and consort he dressed in his best robes and went to the throne room, ready to give this Hobbit, who travelled so far to foreign lands just to consolidate an alliance, a warm welcome.

Thorin sat up straight as the doors to the Hall of Kings opened and a creature, shorter and leaner than a Dwarf, entered, accompanied by a small entourage. He was nervous upon meeting the man he would spent the rest of his life with. As the Hobbit came closer and Thorin got a better look on him he first noticed that he was indeed very nice to look at and very charming for he was smiling wide and happily. The he noticed the gold and gems with which his garments were adorned. A lump formed in his stomach, letting him feel sick and dizzy. Thorin's smile fell. As the Hobbit finally reached the throne, Thorin's face was a mask of stone. The creature bowed before him.

“Greetings, Your Majesty. I am Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, grandson to Thain Gerontius Took, sent to consolidate the trade agreement between my homeland and Erebor, which will be from now on my home. I hereby subject myself under Your jurisdiction and swear to never doubt Your decisions.” 

The Hobbit, no, Bilbo, lifted his eyes and looked with big green eyes full of hope at Thorin. The same green as the emeralds on his robe. The Dwarf had to take in a breath, to calm himself down. He tried to ignore the gold and gems on the Hobbit that could talk so sweetly and yet sting so deadly already. So he did the only thing that came to his mind. He reacted scruffily instead of helping the Hobbit to feel welcome.

“I accept. Bring the Hobbit to his cambers. I will see him at the wedding.”

* * *

The wedding was a casual affair. Thorin and Bilbo signed the wedding contract, received the blessings of the priests and were more or less drawn to the feast. During that and the whole ceremony Thorin never looked at Bilbo. The hobbit was once again dressed in fine silks, adorned with gems and gold thread. He couldn't bare looking in those shining eyes, resembling glittering emeralds so much which found themselves in the earrings the Hobbit wore. Thorin, so it seems, was affected by the gold and gems that Hobbit wore. Every time he looked at him his heart raced and he was sweating heavily. His grandfather had complained about the same symptoms as his gold madness started.

No. He never would look any moment longer at this temptation nor would he touch the Hobbit let alone consummate the marriage with him. Not as long as he had hair like gold and eyes like emeralds. The emeralds that even haunted him him in his dreams.

As the door of Thorin's chambers clicked shut after them the Dwarf let go of Bilbo, having only touched him for display, putting instantly more than an arms length of distance between them.

“I do not have the desire to get intimate with a Halfling like you. Leave my chambers.”

“But … I …”

“Don't talk back to your King.” Thorin opened a secret door in the wall. “Leave. The hallway leads to your chambers.”

Bilbo slipped past Thorin into the corridor. “I really hoped we would learn to get along. But I see it is not in Your interest, Your Majesty. Have a nice evening and sleep well.” The Hobbit then quickened his pace and left for his chambers.

Thorin closed the door, leaned against it with his back and slid down. Something had clenched around his heart as he watched the Hobbit leaving. It sure must have been the call of the gold, woven into the Hobbit's robes, that even reached him as said Hobbit walked to his room. He buried his head in his hands, letting a frustrated roar escape his throat.

“I don't want to become mad. I don't want to become mad. I will _not_ become mad.” He took a few calming breaths before rising and got rid of his formal robes. As soon as he wore his simple tunic, trousers and boots he made it to his forge and worked deep into the night.

* * *

The following weeks were very hard on Bilbo. Despite his effort to impress Thorin, the Dwarf didn't even look at him, neither did they consummate their marriage. His advisors had told him that any Dwarf would be enchanted by adorned robes and presented him the most elaborated fabrics enwrought with gold and shiny gems and diamonds which were sewn onto them. But these efforts didn't bring him the attention of his husband. They seem only to push him farther away.

He was mostly left to himself and so he was often to be found in the library, buried deep within bookstacks and learning everything available about Dwarves, their culture and their Kings. As far as he understood, the book he read was in terribly written Westron, a strain of madness ran through the Line of Durin. Just his luck. Bilbo closed his book and decided to call it a day. But where to go? It was just around teatime, so he had a few hours to kill until he would be expected at dinner. So the Hobbit ventured around the Royal Quarters, eventually finding the stairs descending to the kitchens. He carefully opened the door and was immediately covered in the most pleasant smells. Bilbo entered the big room and ventured around, peaking onto the shelves and tables.

“Hey, you. What're ye doing here? These are the Royal Kitchens.”

“I'm sorry. I ...” The big red headed Dwarf came closer, towering over Bilbo.

“Aren't ye the Consort?

“Y-Yes. Yes I am.”

“Then what're ye really doing here? Don't ye have consorting stuff to do?”

“Actually. No. I'm not allowed to do much. Can … May … Are you allowing me to stay, Master Dwarf?”

“The name's Bombur. Stay and do as you like, M'Consort.”

“Do you happen to have cakes, Master Bombur?”

“Are ye insulting me? Sure I have 'em. But wait a while, I decorate 'em for ye.”

“What? No. No, no, no. No decorating. Just plain stirred cake.”

Bombur looked at Bilbo as though he told him he was a ghost. “Ye wish is me command, M'Consort.”

* * *

“He did what?”

“Seen it with my own eyes, my King. Ate plain cake, that Consort of Yours.”

“You have to be mistaken, Dwalin. That little creature of luxury can't just eat plain cake. Are you sure it wasn't decorated with gold?”

“'t wasn't. Why don't ye give the lad a chance. He isn't that bad.”

Thorin grumbled and buried his nose deep in a piece of parchment which Dwalin took as a sign to leave his King and brother by heart alone.

* * *

On a day near the end of September Balin approached Thorin after breakfast.

“I come with a message from your Consort. He invites you to join him this afternoon for tea on his terrace.”

“I have no desire to take tea with the Hobbit. Tell him I have important things to do.”

“Are your _important_ things more important than spending time with your husband on his birthday? This invitation for tea is a basic tradition in Hobbit culture and denying it is just plain rude. Thorin, Bilbo tries very hard to fit in, he learns our customs, is interested in our crafts. All he does is just to want to please and live up to our expectations. He left his homeland due to a contract. A contract, which outcome is important for our food supplies. If he decides to undo that contract by getting divorced from you, and I wouldn't even blame him for that, we need to find a new trade partner. And those will not be as nice as the Hobbits from the Shire. Just see beyond your own nose and shove aside your pride and take tea with Bilbo.”

“I ...”

“What has the lad ever done to you, Thorin? You were impolite to him the second you set eyes on him. You barely speak to him. You don't even look at him. I know that you didn't wanted to marry, but be a least a little bit courteous to your own husband. Bilbo deserves better than that what you are doing now. He awaits you at 4 o'clock. Be on time.”

With that Balin left the room and closed the door louder than necessary. 

It was quarter past four as Thorin arrived at Bilbo's chambers. He crossed them and stepped out on the terrace, expecting to see Bilbo on a chair, wearing his fancy, gold enwrought robes adorned with jewels, servants around him. But he wasn't prepared for the sight that was offered to him. Bilbo, wearing only trousers and a plain shirt, was kneeling in soil, sun hat on his head and hands deep in the dirt and obviously not aware that Thorin had just entered the terrace so that the Dwarf just thought about leaving again. But then Bilbo looked up and smiled brilliantly at Thorin as he had seen him.

Thorin thought his heart may stop beating. The Hobbit … Bilbo … just looked adorable. The sunhat slightly askew, a smear of dirt on his cheek and the nose a little red from the sun. Thorin had to blink a few times. This was the same feeling he had when he first looked at Bilbo. But now the Hobbit didn't wear any gold or gems. Hadn't it been the goldsickness all the time? 

“Good afternoon, your Majesty. It is nice that you decided to join me. Please sit down, I just have to clean myself.” Thorin did as he was told and watched Bilbo disappear into his chambers. The Dwarf looked around. Has Bilbo really tended to this little garden all by himself? He always was under the impression that his husband just sat around in his fancy robes and watched others do the work for him.

As Bilbo returned he wore a waistcoat over his shirt, sunhat gone and dirt washed away.

“Well … so …” Bilbo sat down opposite Thorin and fumbled with something on the table. He lifted it and held it out to Thorin. “Here. This … this is my present for you.”

“Present?”

“Yes. We Hobbits distribute presents on our birthdays. It isn't much, but I didn't know what to get you.”

Thorin took the present from out of Bilbo's hand. “Thank you. I will appreciate it.” He opened the little box and frowned. It contained a little pot with a round root in it.

“What is that?”

“That is a pot with a flower bulb. I … I may show you how to grow it. If you let me.”

Thorin nodded slowly. “That would be nice.”

Bilbo smiled and seemed more relaxed than before. He took the tea pot and poured tea in Thorin's cup.

* * *

After that day Thorin and Bilbo spent more and more time together apart from dinner and official appointments. They eventually started to live together in Thorin's, now their, apartments (where they consummated their marriage on New Years Eve).

Thorin noticed that Bilbo seemed to be able to eat cake day and night. He ate it when he was happy, when he was mad. He ate it before dinner, after dinner. He ate it right before breakfast and when he got to bed.

One day Dwalin held Thorin back after sparring.

“I saw ye Consort in the kitchen this morning. Ate plain cake again.” Thorin just laughed.

“Let him eat cake.”


End file.
